


veil

by yummy_yogurt_drink



Series: Cold Bones [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Amnesia, Cock Warming, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, F/M, Identity Issues, Implied past James Bond/Q, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Intersex, Male Lactation, Manipulation, Masturbation, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mpreg, Omega James Bond, Omega Verse, Porn With Plot, Sex Toys, Vaginal Fingering, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 14:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20175436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yummy_yogurt_drink/pseuds/yummy_yogurt_drink
Summary: The headaches had been relentless, and he didn't mind finding unorthodox ways to try and tone down their frequency.





	veil

**Author's Note:**

> **Please heed the WARNINGS in the tags.** Back out if any of the tags squick you.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is purely a work of fiction in nature, and the author does not condone any of the implications that exist in this work in real life.

The blaring light of the almost midday sun pierced through the partially drawn curtains, bright enough that his pupils contracted painfully around the rays as they attempted at trying to adjust to such a glaring white.

His head hurt something awful, the pulsing pain a throbbing mass wedged just underneath his skull, and his ears were ringing.

“Pa—”

_ Wake… _

“Papa.”

_ Wake up. _

“Papa!”

He jerked with a sharp intake of breath as though rousing from a dream. Next to him, Veronica had stood up, small hands propping on the smooth table surface, and was then studying him.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he murmured, a veil of smokes perpetuating his mind and shrouding over everything. “What is it?”

“My exercises.” She pouted, nudging over to him the sheet of paper that he had had printed out for her the previous night. “You said you’d look at it. Then we’ll have lunch,” Veronica explained with tremendous patience.

If he hadn’t been awake before, he certainly was then. “Yes. Yes, of course. Let me see.” He slid said paper over, reaching for the nice purple pen that his daughter had handed him earlier, and scanned through the answers she must’ve probably filled out when he’d been spacing out.

He’d been doing a lot of that lately.

It was dangerous.

( _ No! _ )

Jamie cleared his throat, eyebrows knitting together as he blinked his eyes rapidly for a bit.

Short, tiny fingers curled around the back of his hand.

“Papa… are you okay?” Veronica’s eyes were wide, a knowing sort of fear in them. “Do you have to… go to the hospital again?”

The pit of his stomach clenched, and he let go of the pen in favor of picking his little girl up.

“No. Papa’s fine,” he reassured her, one hand cradling her close and the other brushing through her fine, soft hair, the calloused pad of his thumb teasing at her plumb, pink cheek. “No hospital.”

“Really?” Her voice was tiny in the back of her throat, and she reached out her short arm to mirror his own touch, patting the side of his head precisely over that spot where he’d hit his head before.

The sheer genuine care in that one simple, albeit clumsy, touch was enough to squeeze around his throat.

He nodded in reply with a small smile.

“Really.”

-

Madeleine handed him a cup of tea, and it seemed so wrong—the tea, the chamomile; too docile and tamed—mostly because he’d always prefer coffee, but then the pup in his belly fluttered like a quiet, rumbling reminder. And so he gratefully took it and sipped the liquid down.

“They do say that you may be prone to headaches when you’re pregnant,” she said, careful to keep her voice down so as to not aggravate his situation more. “Not to mention that you fell down and hit your head in the bathroom just a couple of months before.”

He sighed, eyes tracing along the embossed, gleaming porcelain rim of the cup in his hand.

“Maybe have some time alone to yourself tomorrow?” Madeleine suggested suddenly, smiling encouragingly at him. “Veronica’s starting daycare again anyway, and I’ll be at work and out of your hair, too. So take some time off.” She placed a hand on his knee, tapping at it absently whilst flitting through her mental checklist of where she thought he should probably head to. “Go to, I don’t know, a cafe? That metal workshop you said just opened a few weeks ago? Maybe the local museum—”

“ _ I _ take tourists to said museum for a living, you know,” he chimed in, arching his eyebrows playfully at her.

She grinned despite rolling her eyes. “I know. But you’re not exactly the type to stay put, are you?”

It was her turn to shoot him a pointed look this time, and he shrugged, neither conceding defeat nor refuting her rhetorical question. “Well, we’ll see, won’t we.”

* * *

_ There was a woman standing in the middle of a ruined chapel, the professional cut of her severe clothes as austere as her miffed expression. _

_ She also seemed to be bleeding from her side as well. _

_ “Wake up.” _

* * *

“Yes,” Madeleine said, one hand holding the mobile to her ear and the other lazily brushing through his hair and scratching at his scalp.

Jamie sighed, mouth shifting around the substantial weight of her hard cock that rested on top of his tongue, and allowed his mind to drift off, the musk of her thick scent and pheromones washing over his senses as he nudged closer toward her groin. 

(He didn’t end up going to a cafe. But well… doing this helped anyway—ease the incessant chattering in his head, that is. Just that alone was enough for him.)

His jaws were aching from however long they’d been passively holding their position, and he groaned a muffled noise when the vibrators in his cunt and arse picked up the pace, both going faster at the same time but without any synchronicity whatsoever. 

He stopped himself just short of rocking against the incredibly comfortable and somewhat firm cushion that Madeleine had given to him to sit on (seeing as he couldn’t quite kneel like he usually did anymore), remembering her order to keep still as much as possible.

It was frustrating… and so, so good. 

“Yes,” Madeleine hummed, a small frown twitching at her brow that was gone as soon as it appeared. “All right, send me your file, and I’ll get back to you later. Goodbye.”

Hanging up, she placed the mobile on the desk and turned her attention back onto him, intense with her pupils blown wide and dark from arousal. Madeleine stared at his lips, red and a little puffy as they were, at the trails of saliva dribbling down from his mouth as it tried to accommodate her girth, then at that open vulnerability and dazed  _ need _ that perpetuate his eyes.

Beautiful. Raw. Trusting.

Unsuspecting.

She rolled her hips gently, pushing herself deeper down his throat, and smiled when he made that small, choking noise that vibrated all along her length. Like this, she could even feel the way how he scrambled to stop his gagging reflexes from kicking in, eyes watering and pulling in as deep a breath as possible through his nose to ease out the burn.

“I think your oral examination checks out, Mr Swann.” She stroked at his neck, teasing at his bobbing Adam’s apple with a subtle graze of nail. “Come up here now.” Madeleine patted briskly at her lap.

Leaving its temporary sheath that was the hot cavern of his mouth, Madeleine’s cock was not yet fully erected, but he couldn’t very well say the same for himself as Jamie struggled a bit to reorient himself and get up.

There was an embarrassing amount of slick that had gathered at the seat of these trousers that she had given him to wear before all this, and as he braced himself to stand, the slick sloshed around a bit and was then running down his thighs, soaking through the fabric.

Madeleine’s nostrils flared, following that thin string of liquid that was seeping from between his slightly shaky legs. 

Then she told him to stand still.

“Do you know the beauty of these trousers?” she asked and pulled on the flimsy knot that tied together the silk robe that he had on, exposing his bare torso. “Aside from the fact that they keep those toys jammed up pretty snugly inside of you…” There was a devilish grin on her face whilst her thumbs rubbed deceptively soothing circles over the bones of his hips. “They can also do this.”

Madeleine reached out for the fly and, with one sweeping motion, unzipped it entirely from front to back, the comfortable lining of silk flaps on the inside keeping everything safe and sound for him.

And just like that, Jamie’s pussy was gushing in plain sight, and Madeleine was positively ecstatic, especially when his face burnt from a sudden surge of embarrassment.

It didn’t take long before she ceased the toys from their buzzing and pulled them out of him.

“Now.” Madeleine pressed a chaste kiss over his belly then leant back and nodded at her desk. “Sit up there and masturbate for me.” 

“What—” he breathed, his holes fluttering uselessly around air still.

“Don’t stop until you come.”

Heart pounding wildly against his ribcage and ragged breaths rattling in his ears, eventually, he complied and sat down onto the edge of the desk, scooting himself up until he’d firmly situated himself on its smooth surface, shivering all over. 

He swallowed thickly and spread his legs wide open, then, right in front of her hungry eyes, began fucking into himself.

It was a good thing they were in the private space of Madeleine’s study at home.

And having never been one for doing things halfway, Jamie soon had three fingers thrusting in and out of himself, free hand kneading his tender tits and pinching at his leaking nipples, eyes never leaving Madeleine and the lazy way she also stroking her own cock.

She was watching him so intently that he bit back a curse and started going at it faster, thumb flicking over his clit with the stuttered moans like hot coals on his tongue and those squelching noises oozing from between his thighs the only sounds filling up this blanket of undulated quietness.

Heat crawled up his spine, spreading like a wildfire at the nape of his neck, and he arched, trying to shove in as deep as he could. But after a while, his wrist was growing sore, and the same went for the gradually cramping muscles in his quivering thighs, mostly because he’d, so far, had no proper perch to leverage them up against.

But he was so close now. So close that he could very nearly taste it on his tongue, and…

Jamie whimpered.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t reach it. Not when he had to keep one hand on the desk now to maintain this upright position.

“M-May I—”

“If you’re asking if you can lie down, the answer is no,” she said slowly, snatching the question right from his mouth even before he could voice it, the smug Alpha.

“Then,” he choked. “I… I need some help.”

“Yes.” Her tone was indulgent, indolent. Unsurprised. “And?” She raised her eyebrow expectantly, the quirk of those lips firm despite its apparent cheekiness and playfulness.

He drew in a trembling breath. “ _ Please _ .”

Her cool chuckles chime like the calls of a calming bell, and he crested—slack-jawed and squirting all over his hand—from just two pumps of her fist around his cock.

Head swimming and consciousness partially fading, he could still feel come pulsing out of his convulsing cunt when Madeleine was suddenly there right in front of his vision, apparently whispering, “Shh, I got you,” and laying him down on his side.

“You did so well,” she said, her voice seemingly drowned out by the sensitivity overdrive he was, then, experiencing. “So beautiful and brilliant, my omega.” Her hand cupped at his cheek and smoothed along his hairline, and if there was a distant jab of something in the pit of his stomach over her wording, he didn’t notice it.

Just like how he didn’t notice until she’d already settled in right behind him, all perfectly lined up and everything, and had already propped up one of his legs to rest against her shoulder.

He gasped when she breached his twitching, sopping entrance.

* * *

Q was working on his secure, personal laptop. (Using his work computers had never been an option, not with Nine Eyes looming over his shoulder like a spying little shit that he couldn’t quite squash. Not just yet anyway.)

Considering that all CCTV from the airport had been wiped clean, thus making sure that there’d be no easy way for anyone looking to find out what exactly had happened to the MI6 agent who’d been ruthlessly eliminated right on British soil, he had had to reverse engineer the whole thing.

Starting from the list of passengers who might or might not have been at said airport at around the similar time and location that his man had been killed. 

And whether or not these people had been documenting their surroundings with an electronic device.

It’d taken a couple of weeks and many a sleepless day, but… he might have gotten himself some substantial leads.

Squinting at the man on the screen, Q adjusted his glasses and stared at the, admittedly, sparse information that he’d managed to dig up on this individual, and frowned that much further.

Most of this was undoubtedly false information. However… 

It seemed that he might have cause to look into Austria. Again.


End file.
